By the fourth day of my freshman Winter Quarter, I was ready to give up on myself. 

It was my third night as a copy editor at The Daily, and I didn’t even know if I was editing stories properly. I told myself I didn’t deserve any role in relation to my accomplished peer editors. I never edited for a paper in high school and barely knew anything about journalism.

My imposter syndrome emerged quickly. In a desperate attempt to prove I deserved my position, I didn’t set any boundaries. I slept for a couple of hours a night. I cried as I inched my way through stories and rejected anyone’s offer to help me. I spent weekends in the library, cramming homework so I could spend more time editing during the week. 

If I said that any of these choices helped me prove my worth, I’d be lying. No matter how much I put myself through, I didn’t believe I deserved to be an editor from the day I began copy-editing to the day I passed the role on. 

In my sleep-deprived and upset daze, I neglected friendships. I lost confidence in myself, refusing to advocate for my mental health. I didn’t believe I deserved to take time to just have fun. I even started questioning why I wanted to be a journalist, a career I’d wanted for years.  

My turning point came weeks after Winter Quarter ended, when I realized I still felt sleep deprived, drained and empty. In constantly trying to prove my worth, I’d severely impacted my physical and mental health. I felt miserable, all the time. And suddenly, that feeling wasn’t worth “proving” myself anymore. 

I started measuring my success through not only my academic achievements, but also the way I treated my body and the empathy I showed friends. I turned down writing some stories and passed on editing responsibilities to people who had more capacity. I stood up for myself in some friendships and forged new ones. Establishing boundaries ultimately made me more confident in myself and what I deserve, and I’ve fostered better relationships with friends and work as a result. 

You’re at a school with an incredible group of students, and there’s a lot of pressure to stand out. Here, it’s easy to associate what and how much you do with how much you’re worth. But you don’t need to sacrifice your well-being to prove you belong. Take on opportunities that excite and challenge you, while acknowledging you don’t have the capacity to do everything. 

The healthiest people on this campus are often not the most outwardly successful. Surround yourself with people who are confident in who they are and what they believe, ones who will encourage you, challenge you and, when needed, criticize you. Know what treatment you deserve from others, especially those you call friends. Explore what routines and habits give your body the space to rest and recharge. 

Show yourself and those around you grace. Everyone here struggles with the same feelings, and it’s important to remember to cut people slack. Instead of trying to mirror friends with ridiculous workloads, it might be better to check in with them. 

There will be bumps along the way as you learn what you can and can’t handle, and stumbling is more than okay. Let yourself fail and cry. Forgive yourself when you just need to turn off the lights and stop studying. Ultimately, you belong here, no matter what or how much you do.  

At Northwestern, no opportunity is worth losing yourself, the passions you have or the people you love. You are so capable — and so worthy — of forging healthy success. 

Joanna Hou is a Medill sophomore. She can be contacted at [email protected]. If you would like to respond publicly to this op-ed, send a Letter to the Editor to [email protected]. The views expressed in this piece do not necessarily reflect the views of all staff members of The Daily Northwestern.